


Faith (and Lack Thereof)

by ThatGirlTheyKnow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre- Sam/Cas, Religion, Religious doubts, Sam/Cas friendship, it was originally going to be but I changed my mind, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatGirlTheyKnow/pseuds/ThatGirlTheyKnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Sam is a child, he prays to God every night. He clasps his hands together under the blankets of the motel bed, scrunches his eyes together, and talks to God in his head; asking for a home, for his mother, for Dean to be happy or for Dad to be around more. He prays for stability and comfort but he never gets it, no matter how hard he prays or how much he wants it."</p>
<p>A story about Sam's faith throughout his life up until season five.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith (and Lack Thereof)

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this written for months. The idea started out as a Sam/Cas thing, but I changed my mind pretty quickly on that, and decided to leave it on friendship. Most of the fic is about Sam growing up and how his religious beliefs change. 
> 
> These beliefs do not nesessarily mirror mine, but I am religious, so if you disagree with something in here and what you want to say may offend, please reconsider. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.

When Sam is a child, he prays to God every night. He clasps his hands together under the blankets of the motel bed, scrunches his eyes together, and talks to God in his head; asking for a home, for his mother, for Dean to be happy or for Dad to be around more. He prays for stability and comfort but he never gets it, no matter how hard he prays or how much he wants it.

He thinks maybe he’s doing it wrong, and starts kneeling beside his bed and whispering prayers while John is out and Dean is asleep or in the shower. He begs God and his angels for a normal life like the ones he sees on TV, the same type of life all his friends have (the few friends he makes in the few weeks he spends at each school). Two parents who are there for every meal, a dog, his own home and bedroom that he can decorate however he wants. Sometimes he cries and forgets to whisper, his hurt and anger at both God and his family leaking through. Sometimes he feels betrayed.

When he’s ten he sneaks into the back of a church service in the town they’re staying at currently, and finds himself captivated by the  tall, stained-glass windows and the flowing hymns and the rhythmic prayers. For once in his life, he feels like he’s a part of something positive, that he’s got something in common with people who aren’t Dean or Dad. He memorises the prayers quickly, the same way he memorises exorcisms, and starts using them when he talks to God at night. Maybe if he uses the ones they use at church God will take him more seriously.

One day Dean hears him and demands to know what he’s doing, why he’s praying to someone who doesn’t exist- _if God existed don’t you think he’d do something about all the badness in the world?_ His older brother looks a little guilty when Sam, eleven years old at the time, starts crying, so he holds him and comforts him, but it doesn’t help. Dean’s his big brother, and Dean is always right. It makes sense, too, because why would God, who is supposed to be full of love and grace, let dad get drunk and shout at Dean when he makes the tiniest mistake, or let him go out for weeks and leave his sons hungry and cold in motel rooms, with only each other and a gun for comfort when they’re curled up against each other under thin sheets? Sam stops praying.

He can’t shake the part of him that believes God exists, purely because it’s what he’s always thought and old habits die hard, but he becomes angry with Him, and sometimes at night he blinks back hurt tears and demands to know what he’s ever done to deserve this life. Dean hears and reassures him that he didn’t do anything, that this was all for a good cause, but Sam just snaps at him and rolls over in bed and pretends to fall asleep so he doesn’t hear his older brother’s sad, at loss sigh.

By the time Sam’s seventeen, and has only had three real friends in his life, and has been labelled a freak at nearly every school he’s attended (and there have been a lot), he pretty much gives up on the idea that a higher power is watching over him, or cares about him, but he starts praying again because a small voice in the back of his mind that says some things he’s seen could only be explained by some sort of divine intervention- a bullet missing Dean’s head by millimetres, Dad being thrown down a set stairs and somehow not breaking his neck, or Sam himself finding his weapon closer than he thought it was when he’s about to be killed by some monster or another. He starts to ask for more realistic things- no more happy families or stable lives, he prays for good grades and for his family to be safe- but he’s not sure if it’s God or hard work and luck when those things come true. God probably has better things to do than help him like that- on the other hand, he’s pretty sure he’s earned a bit of Holy help by now.

\--

When he’s at Stanford, he goes to services every Sunday with Jess, because she’s been going every weekend since she was a kid and he enjoys something else adding to the stability and routine of his new life.

\--

Then Dad goes missing, Dean comes along, and there goes his piece of happiness.

\--

When he finds out Dean’s talked to an angel, Sam can’t help the pang of excitement and jealousy and anger. Excitement because _holy shit angels are real and that means God is real_ and jealousy and anger because _of course the angel doesn’t both appearing to him why bother with a boy who drinks demon blood_ and _he has more faith than Dean ever has it’s not fair._

He pushes those thoughts down because, hey, there are more important things.

And eventually, eventually Castiel, the angel, becomes his friend. He’s friends with an angel. And Sam can never stop the feeling of absolute respect and awe when he thinks about his friend who has watched humans evolve, who has seen more lifetimes than Sam can comprehend, and who always, in the end, not matter what he has seen in his life, fights for what he believes is right.

Sometimes, during the apocalypse, Sam sneaks off to church while Dean is still sleeping. He prays to God as hard as he can and demands to know where He is, what He’s doing, doesn’t humanity matter to Him? Sometimes Sam cries, feeling betrayed on his friend’s behalf, not even humanity’s, and leaves the church quietly in the middle of the service.

Once, after a service where he sat in the back pew and tried to be ignored, Sam sits in the garden in the back of the church. Rays of sunlight filter through the tall trees behind the church, and the whole garden smells like flowers and life. It would be beautiful if Sam would bring himself to care.  

He hears the sound of wings. Sam doesn’t even look up from his hands when Castiel sits next to him and puts his hand on his shoulder. He makes himself stop crying, though.

“Hey Castiel.”

“Hello, Sam.”

“How did you find me?”

“I knew which town you were in, and I know you like to attend church services on Sundays. I hear your prayers when my name is mentioned.”

Sam flushes at that, but says nothing. They sit in the garden for a very long time. The sun rises higher in the sky and hurts his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says eventually, breaking their silence. “That you feel hurt on my behalf. You shouldn’t.”

“How do you know how I feel?”

“I can hear your prayers, every night and when you come to churches. You say my name, and that makes me able to hear them.  I appreciate your... upset... but I have... come to terms with the fact that my father is gone.”

“It makes me angry.”

Sam hears a wry smile in Castiel’s response. “I know. But it is okay. You have more important things to worry about.”

Sam shakes his head. “Are you sure it’s going to be okay? That _you’re_ going to be okay? Your father is gone.”

Castiel sighs sadly and Sam realises with a pang of guilt that he has said the wrong thing.

“Cas, I didn’t mean to... I’m sorry. But you’re my friend. I worry.”

Castiel stands up and shakes his head. “I thank you for worrying about me, Sam. I am not offended by you stating that my father is gone. He is. And I know you of all people would be the last person to be purposefully hurtful. You are filled with goodness that you refuse to see, a burning need to help people and make their lives better even when yours is the weight of the world on Atlas’ shoulders.”

Sam may or may not be crying again, head bent down and eyes closed against the tears, but the angel doesn’t say anything, just stands up, cups his cheek, and whispers a small blessing on Sam’s cursed soul.

When Castiel flies them back to the motel, Dean is still asleep, and Castiel leaves.

God, Sam realises, is never going to listen. He’s known that, but he has not accepted that. So from then on, when he sits in churches on Sundays to escape from the pressure of the apocalypse, his prayers for his brother and friend’s safety go to the one celestial being Sam knows cares, and the one he has the most faith in.


End file.
